


Regression - Snapshot

by Camfield



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield





	Regression - Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts).



Soundwave had Frenzy on one shoulder, Ravage padding alongside him as he walked through the base. The need for their sparks so close to his had finally been deemed a medical necessity, much to Bluestreak's (and Soundwave's) relief, and he'd taken to being with two of them as much as possible. Two, because that was all Ratchet would allow when he was walking or outside of the designated 'play areas'. 

So much procedure to follow, but at least thing were better.

Bluestreak smiled at the grin on Soundwave's face. Frenzy was gesitculating enough that Soundwave was having to adjust to his movements, but he could tell that the navy mech didn't mind. He was happy to be spending time with his deployers, and they with him. 

The fact that they were going outside for the first time since the whole mess had started was probably adding to Frenzy's excitement. They'd seen outside through holos and on the television, but they hadn't been outside yet and Bluestreak had never seen Soundwave with such a light step. 

Which was because he was finally allowed to see and hold his deployers in the open, rather than hidden and against the rules.

The Praxian got them to the entrance of the Ark and gave them the go ahead with his servo. He wasn't worried about the mech running away, even if Red Alert's cameras were all tuned to them.

Frenzy whooped, vaulting himself down and tumbling around in the sand. Ravage bowled him over, and the both of them scrabbled around for stable holds in the dunes as they played. 

Soundwave was slightly less enthusiastic, and instead of joining his cassettes on the ground he scooped up servofuls of sand and tossed it in their direction. Not enough to rain down on them, but enough to be a little extra bit of (in Frenzy's case) a shriek inducer. There would be baths in their future, deep cleaning ones, Bluestreak knew. They hadn't sealed up their seams, he guessed, like he'd told them to, but really, they were so happy that it made the extra time they'd spend in the bath worth it, he thought. 

Ravage finally decided that she was done with the flurries of sand and loped around the both of them to flop next to Bluestreak, vents heaving. He crouched down where he'd been standing, offering her a servoto approve before stroking her head and audio shells. Soundwave's symbiotes were fairlyeasygoing, and now that they were allowed to spend more time with him they were much more open. With certain mecha, at least. They were all still more reserved when they were in groups than some of the other rehabilitated Cons.

Something that Bluestreak was happy for, at least. He didn't like the method, and he was certain that not everything was happy behind closed doors for everyone, but...   
On the whole, most of the mecha had seemed happy. Or at least content. Not one that he'd seen had looked like they'd been abused or neglected, and their interaction wasn't scared or sullen. It was sparklifting, honestly, to know that regardless of their feelings towards the Decepticon faction, that the mecha who'd taken the oath of Primus under Optimus were abiding by it. War had tempered them all in ways no one truly liked, civilians turned soldiers turned rehabilitators, in many cases, but they had adapted as best they could, and now they were finally starting to create something peaceful again. 

Bluestreak was certain there would always be fighting, you couldn't wipe out civil dispute entirely, but he hoped that for a while at least, nothing would come from the unrest he knew some of them felt.

Himself included.

Soundwave had finally just laid down on the sand, and Frenzy was clambering on top of him and laying down with his small helm right where the navy mech's dock would be. A large servo stroked over the cassette's back firmly, and it was obvious to Bluestreak that the minimech was eating up all the attention. Of all the symbiotes, Frenzy seemed to need the most contact. He was the one who was with Soundwave nearly constantly, and always pressed as close as possible to Soundwave's spark.  
The gunner was sure that it was more than just needing simple contact, but the only thing he could really do its make sure that they had enough time to spend together. He was still working on getting Soundwave back his dock, but until that became a medical necessity, they had to work with what they had.

Ravage slipped out from Bluestreak's servo to go over and join his brother against Soundwave's chest. The sun was hot and high, and he could see solar panels unfurling from all of them as they lay there. Soaking up the spectrum of rays, and he knew that sular energy gave a nice pleasant thrum of charge that warmred systems from the inside out. It wasn't enough to sustain a working mech for more than a few days, but it was a great extra boost that left a mecha feeling good. It was proven enough that Ratchet actually gave orders for the whole Ark to sunbathe at least once a week, because the boost that came in morale was trmendous enough to make the grumbles about sand worth it. They hadn't isolated what made it so much different than their own sun, but it was something that he knew they were working on. Earth was a temporary home, but they were interested in going back to Cybertron, and every little thing that could help them make it a working home was looked into.

His own panels pinged a request to angle out, and after a moment's hesitation he gave an affirmative. A sigh as energy trickled in, and he walked out to where the three were sunning (his own seams sealed up tight) and sat down next to them. Sitting in a companionable silence for a while, and his doorwings told him when first the cassettes and then Soundwave dropped into a light doze. His helm tilted, looking out over the expanse of the desert, and Bluestreak dropped one servo to stroke the navy mech's helm lightly.

Truth be told, he hadn't expected to enjoy being a caretaker as much as he was. He'd always thought that with everything they'd gone through that he'd have been a terrible creator, and this had come with a heavy dose of cynacism at Optimus' choice in him. He didn't take care of things. He destroyed them. They all did.

They all had.

Now that the war was over, and now that he had Soundwave; he could see it for the tactical movement that it was. Instead of letting highly trained and active soldiers accumulate energy that would be burned off in ways that probably wouldn't end up being safe or all that effective, they were given a task that required them to think. To work through problems. No one wanted to disappoint the Prime, and for all the misgivings that he'd had, that he knew that others had had, it seemed that this wasn't as rough as he'd imagined it would be.

Ups and downs were had, sure. More than once he'd heard shouting in the hallways, or seen another mech rear up in a stubborn streak. Soundwave himself had his own issues, things that Bluestreak had to work around and, more importantly, work through. 

But, he wouldn't change it for the world, and he felt a glow suffuse his spark whenever he looked at the larger mech and his symbiotes.

Soundwave's optics powered back on at the touch, and he shifted just enough to press against Bluestreak's servo. It was the smallest of gestures, but there was a genuine affection that he could feel through the slightly dampened field that made him smile softly and let the strokes continue.  
They stayed out for a while longer, just enjoying the sun and the energy that it gave them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wash racks were the first place they visited, and even though Frenzy was usually unhappy with showers he was content to let Bluestreak and Soundwave scrub up under his plating and clean him off. It took some doing, but Soundwave was thorough and Frenzy was happy to let him pry armor plates up and spray water into them , until they were sure that he was sand free. Then, Bluestreak took him in a large towel and dried him off while the navy mech attended to ravage, and finally himself. The gunner was tempted to ask to see if Soundwave had actually gotten all the sand, but resisted with a laugh at himself. 

Eventually they got back to the quarters that had been appropriated for the cassettes, and by extention Soundwave and Bluestreak; the four that hadn't come with all piled on and chattered excitedly. Noise filled the space, but it wasn't overwhelming. It was conversations, questions. Excited queries about the sky and sand, and Frenzy told them all very vehemently that they have to remember to seal their plating up tight before going out there.

Bluestreak caught the exasperated look that Soundwave gave him, but he wasn't fooled in the least.

It didn't take long to settle back in, and he was napping on the couch with an armful of sleepy cassette. Comfortable. The cushions were nice and soft, and they held heat well enough that he didn't need to bring his blanket out from his berth. One servo moved over Laserbeak's plating, at least he thought it was Laserbeak. His optics were dimmed to nearly nothing and they had identical frames, but he was petting and whoever it was in his lap wasn't complaining. That was good enough for the moment.

Soundwave was at his small workstation. He had a circuit board out in front of him, following the instructions with exacting movements. His fingers were nimble enough now that he could built them, and they were always in need of generic ones for something. It had been good for the navy mech to feel like he was contributing, and Wheeljack couldn't say anything against his finished product. They were clean and well done, even if the soldering wasn't quite as neat as he'd like.

“Patience.”

It was almost funny, coming from him. Some mecha forgot that a sniper had to stay still for a long time sometimes. Waiting for their mark to come into their view. He gave that to Soundwave as best he could. It would do him more good in the long run to keep his processor level, like he'd been known for before. It was a learned trait, Bluestreak had discovered, and he was determined to help him learn it again.

At last though, he had a neat stack of boards on one side and a horde begging him to play on the other, and they'd both learned that no to six younglings was almost impossible. Especially when they were all crowded around him and begging. It was easy to see him melt, the softy.  
Not that Bluestreak was much better.

All in all, the Praxian was more than happy with the way things had turned out. There were parts that he wasn't pleased with. Things that he disliked about the process, disliked about the ideal, but to say that he disliked Soundwave... it wasn't even something that crossed his mind now. He hated the mech who'd tried to kill them, but that was someone long gone and the mech that was sitting on the floor in front of him was full of joy and pain and depth, just like the rest of them. He was new. Learning things that Bluestreak found he enjoyed teaching, and more than that, Bluestreak was learning just how deeply he could love someone.

But the way his spark spun and warmed him from the inside out wasn't somehting that he imagined, and he found himself thanking Optimus and Ratchet for the chance to be a part of this. It had given him more of a reason to get up each day, and more than that how to look forward to the ups and downs that were a part of it. 

It wasn't perfect.

But it was pretty good.

Bluestreak walked over and pressed his chevron to Soundwave's helm before sitting down and joining in the play, optics bright and laughter just as loud as Frenzy's.


End file.
